


Down In One

by orphan_account



Category: Sherlock (TV)
Genre: Beer, Gen, Pre-Slash
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2012-12-08
Updated: 2012-12-08
Packaged: 2017-11-20 15:12:20
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 618
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/586740
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/orphan_account/pseuds/orphan_account
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Written for <a href="http://sherlockbbc-fic.livejournal.com/5564.html?thread=19503036#t19503036">this prompt</a>: "One of my biggest kinks is someone who can really throw back a drink.</p><p>So: John's not much of a drinker, and he avoids it as much as possible, but when Lestrade/Scotland Yard/Sherlock/whoever keeps pressuring him to have a drink, John takes his and pounds it back in one sexy moment of epic win.</p><p>Please and thank you!"</p>
            </blockquote>





	Down In One

The post-case drinking session was kicking into full swing. Lestrade had invited John and Sherlock to join them - this time even Anderson had to admit that they’d been instrumental in solving the case - and was pleasantly surprised when both men agreed. John had been out for a few beers with the team on previous occasions, but Sherlock had never deigned to join in with the socialising. Admittedly he looked slightly uncomfortable and out of place, but he was there, and he hadn’t destroyed anyone’s mental wellbeing yet.

“John, I’m heading back to Baker Street.”

“Oh, OK. Do you want me to come with?” John had heard someone mention going for a curry, and he was tempted, but would return to the flat with Sherlock without a second thought if that’s what Sherlock wanted.

“No, I’ve got some experiments to run that you might prefer... not to witness” John caught the slight hint of a grin on Sherlock’s face.

“Thanks for the heads up. I don’t want to know, do I?”

“I wouldn’t think so, no.” Sherlock paused as if he’d just noticed a hidden piece of evidence. “You bought me a drink, I haven’t reciprocated. I’ll get you one before I leave,” and he swept off to the bar before John could point out that everyone else was in the process of finishing their drinks ready to head out to the Indian.

Sherlock arrived back at the table with a pint of bitter just as Lestrade was asking John if he was coming to the curry house. Sherlock looked at John, at the pint, at John’s hesitation.

“Sherlock’s just bought me a beer - “

“It’s quite alright John, I don’t expect you to -”

“John? Are you coming?”

John looked at Sherlock. Memories of Sherlock just happening to glance up when he finished half a mug of tea in one go, or took a long pull from a bottle of water after running halfway across central London. Sherlock’s eyes, apparently accidentally, on his throat.

 _It’s been a while,_ thought John, _but hell, it’s got to be like riding a bike, right? And it’s not like I didn’t have plenty of practice... rugby, medical school, the army... right, fuck it._

He reached for the glass, unaware that several of the coppers had turned to see if he was coming with them or not. Very much aware of Sherlock watching him.

Picked up the pint glass, took a quick breath, started drinking. And kept on drinking. _Breathe,_ he told himself, _don’t try to rush it, you’ll end up with beer all down your chin, just remember to pause and breathe through your nose once or twice_.

He’d closed his eyes, so couldn’t see Sherlock staring at his throat, watching intently as John swallowed mouthful after mouthful, taking it steady, his Adam's apple moving, his throat working around the liquid, his head tilting further and further back, exposing his neck more with each swallow.

He put the glass back on table, looked around in surprise at the raucous cheer the coppers gave, laughing, before they started moving out of the pub. Didn’t notice that Lestrade was looking at Sherlock and grinning, before turning to John, “The Indus, mate, a few doors down, see you in a minute.”

John nodded at him, taking a few surreptitious deep breaths to stop the beer making a premature and unwelcome return. “Yeah, I’m right behind you.” Turned back to Sherlock, who was still staring.

“Thanks for the beer, I’ll see you later. Try not to have blown anything up before I get home, yeah?”

By the time Sherlock had managed to rearrange his features into his favourite look of injured innocence, John was already out the door.

**Author's Note:**

> Originally written in December 2010.


End file.
